


arts, crafts, disasters and dates

by addi_writes_sometimes, it_always_flinches_first



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Lots of it, One Shot, Post-The Heroes of Olympus, Romance, arts and crafts, can't believe that isn't a tag already smh, welcome to quarantine writing episode 346
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24398728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addi_writes_sometimes/pseuds/addi_writes_sometimes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/it_always_flinches_first/pseuds/it_always_flinches_first
Summary: Was it a good idea to get Annabeth and Percy to supervise arts and crafts with the younger kids? Absolutely not.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson & Random Campers, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86





	arts, crafts, disasters and dates

**Author's Note:**

> in my defense. i am sad and my gf is quarantine-ing 2 and a half hours away. have some fluff. - alex (watermelons_official)
> 
> me: i'm at the author's notes, anything u wanna tell the world?  
> addi: this was v fun, they should follow me on tungle (addi-d-is-done), and there will be more of these stupid fics coming soon  
> me: aight  
> addi: also tell them to send us prompts  
> me: galaxy brain we love prompts

It’s too early for this shit.

Annabeth and Percy are sitting at a table in the middle of the Arts and Crafts Centre. The afternoon sun pours in from the windows, while they absentmindedly cut paper into different shapes, like squares, circles, and something that was once supposed to resemble a triangle.

“This was a bad idea,” Annabeth says for what feels like the hundredth time today when she almost cuts off a finger with a pair of craft scissors.

“Annabeth Chase, Hero of Olympus, intimidated by a group of twelve-year-olds,” Percy shoots back with a snort, gesturing with his own scissors.

“Haha.” She gives a half-assed and playful glare.

The worst part? He’s right. Annabeth hasn’t even _met_ the aforementioned group of twelve-year-olds, and she’s already convinced they’ll hate her.

“I’m horrible with kids.”

“You’ll be _fine,_ Wise Girl. If anything, _I’m_ the one that should be worrying.”

“Oh sure, the guy that gets babies to stop crying with just _going near them_ should really be worrying.”

“Hey, babies and teenagers are completely different creatures,” he huffs indignantly. “And besides, who says they’ll like me, anyway?”

“I do. Why wouldn’t they?” Annabeth shrugs, pausing for a moment to think. “It’s because you guys have the same mental capacity,” she teases.

“You’re really funny, have I ever told you that?” 

“Mmm… nope! Can I get that in writing?”

“You know what, Chase —” Percy stops suddenly, looking somewhere over her shoulder, and his demeanour changes completely, from his usual smirk and raised eyebrow, to the most guilty-looking innocent smile.

Annabeth grins triumphantly, that very grin faltering when she notices his gaze. “What?” She asks, her tone more quizzical than teasing.

“Uh, you might wanna… turn around,” Percy mutters. Then, louder, “Alright, hi campers! Welcome to crafting with Annabeth and Percy —”

“Percy and Annabeth. If something goes bad, it’ll be mainly your fault,” she corrects quietly, then turns around to greet the campers with a large, somewhat forced grin. She was happy to see the campers, but at the same time, she was kind of… scared, really. “Hey! We’re doing… Percy, why don’t you tell them what we’re doing?”

Percy shoots her a quick glare and turns back to the campers. They _are,_ in essence, a bunch of twelve-year-olds (twenty-something kids, Percy figures, with the oldest being maybe fourteen), but not only that. Mainly, it’s new campers — kids who are still getting used to having the gods in their lives. Young impressionable children that will definitely _not_ be hard to manage. At all.

“Right, well — it’s arts and crafts time, which means we’ve got arts and crafts supplies, and Annabeth’s a daughter of Athena, so if any of you want help weaving, you’re in luck, but if not — we’ve got all sorts of stuff, so uh. Knock yourselves out.” He gestures at the mountains of paper, scissors, glue, glitter and other supplies that litter the table and offers them a slightly awkward smile. The kids approach, slowly but surely, and within minutes the air is buzzing with excitement and the kind of chaos only twelve-year-olds can produce, only slightly muted on account of the adult supervision. Well, if you can call Annabeth and Percy adult supervision. Debatable, but it seemed enough for Chiron and everyone else is busy, so it’s them or nothing.

Annabeth squeezes Percy’s arm gently as they all sit down, giving him a small, promising smile to tell him that it’s going to be okay — because she’s there.

* * *

It’s not okay. It’s not okay at all and Percy wants the ground to swallow him whole.

Annabeth — ever the traitor — only laughs at his misery.

“See but the thing is: you _should_ be great at surfing,” Thomas Lang, son of Hermes and bored college student (a deadly duo) says, grinning like the maniacal stowaway he is. “You can control the _waves._ What better guarantee do you need? But you _suck_ —”

“Gee, thanks.”

“— So what’s holding you back? At first I imagined it was a moral thing — like, you know how Katie had that phase when she refused to eat any vegetable she didn’t grow herself, ’cause apparently the farming industry is a disgrace to actual farming? But it’s not! Do you wanna hear my theory?”

“No.”

“I think,” Tom continues as if he hadn’t heard him, “that there’s a random, obscure sea god that’s pissed at you for some reason — Is there a surfing god?”

“How much older than me are you again?”

“Three whole days!” Tom informs him gleefully.

“I’m pulling the adult card and telling you to go file some taxes,” Percy says. “Also, how much coffee have you drunk today?

Now, don’t get Percy wrong, he likes Tom — but he’s never forgiven him for that time during the Battle of Manhattan. _“No detours, you two!”_ An asshole, that kid — don’t let the bubblegum pink hair fool you. And Tom absolutely knows Percy still holds it against him (he knows how to hold a grudge, thank you very much, and Tom betrayed him in the very worst way) which is exactly why he’s here testing Percy’s patience.

Annabeth always seems to somehow save the day, but she decides to take her time today. She watches the son of Hermes interact with Percy with amusement, waiting until his suffering gets pitiful to step in. 

“Tom, I have _heart problems,_ ” Percy complains, with the kind of dramatic flair only he can pull off. Annabeth thinks it’s cute, and he knows she does, but he also knows if he ever mentions it he’s going to regret it.

Annabeth merely chuckles as she steps away from Violet and Macy Dunne, daughters of Demeter, and makes her way to rescue the dramatic demigod. “ _Terrible_ heart problems, actually,” she agrees, matching the flair. She knows that, one day, it will come back to bite her, but she decides that’s a problem for _future_ Annabeth. Future Annabeth will probably hate her when she has to deal with an over-enthusiastic and overly caffeinated Tom trying to recruit her for acting classes because of her “raw talent, Annabeth! I swear I’ve never seen anyone like you!”.

Percy nods enthusiastically. “I could die any second,” he agrees — probably a bit _too_ enthusiastic for someone who could die any second. Well. Technically he _is_ in mortal peril every day of his (frankly already unnaturally long) existence, but that’s… Yeah, that doesn’t count.

Tom makes a face. “So could _I!_ ”

And he’s right, Annabeth probably will end up killing him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she muses, sharing an amused glance with Percy. “ _But_ , Percy is more at-risk than others. With his heart problems, and all.”

“Go _away,_ Tom.” And let it be said, Percy is _not_ whining, not at all. “You’re scaring the newly-claimed. Besides, don’t you have better things to do than be bored out of your mind here? You don’t even _like_ arts and crafts!” He pauses, then adds, “And I think I saw JJ looking for you. You remember JJ, right?” he asks, like he’s not completely aware Tom has a crush the size of Texas on JJ. “Child of — Tyche, was it?”

“ _No!_ Child of… child of…” Tom blinks, blushing at the fact that he can’t remember his crush’s cabin. 

“You should go ask.”

Annabeth nods wisely, “Yeah! Go ask, then, _after_ arts and crafts, come find us and tell us how it went,” she says, like she isn’t planning on dragging Percy to the nearest movie theatre as soon as this glittery nightmare is over. “Maybe it was Nike. You should tell JJ I said hi, too.”

“Ditto,” Percy agrees, all but shoving a thoughtful-looking Tom out the door.

“Right,” Tom mutters. “I’m gonna… go do that. But not because you told me to,” he adds hastily, already walking away. “Because I… had the same idea. Yes. Right. Bye!” And he’s gone.

Annabeth — respectfully, thank you — waits until he’s out of earshot, then bursts out laughing. “ _Percy!_ There _has_ to be a rule against bullying campers,”

“First of all, he started it, and in my defense, it wasn’t a complete lie,” he argues, starting a rubber band bracelet for Dean Francis, son of Apollo. “I _did_ see JJ looking for him! Only…” He grimaces. “I think it was about a math assignment.”

Annabeth shakes her head fondly, rolling her eyes. She holds down a piece of paper so a son of Hephaestus can finish tracing his self-driving car without the wind ruining the design. “Poor him. Does JJ not know to come to Athena kids with homework help? I thought that was an unspoken thing.”

“Julian is useless at math,” Percy reminds her. Julian is the living stereotype of an Athena kid, except for the fact that his expression matches Percy’s whenever Annabeth starts rambling about calculations to whoever will listen. “JJ would be better off asking Camila — Remember Camila? Demeter kid, like yay tall, total prodigy. I wish she’d been around when I still had math homework I didn’t wanna do,” he sighs wistfully. “Would’ve been a lifesaver.”

Annabeth scoffs, ruffling a Hermes kid’s hair and sitting down next to Percy, elbowing him. “Excuse you, I exist. You could’ve, like, emailed me.”

He sends her a pointed look. “Would you have done my math homework for me, Wise Girl?” he asks drily.

“Absolutely not,” she answers plainly.

“Case in point,” he grins, spreading his arms.

She takes the open arms as a chance to stand beside him, one arm wrapped around the small of his back. “Shut up. I would _now_ , but you seemed to do just _fine_ , didn’t you?”

“What if I _cheated_ on Mr J’s test?” he counters, an eyebrow raised. They both know he wouldn’t dare — not when it would’ve put in danger his grades so close to the end of the school year.

“I dunno if 13-year-old Percy would’ve had the _guts_ to cheat on a test.” Annabeth shrugs, returning the raised brow. 

Percy snorts. “Thirteen-year-old me was a delinquent. In fact, _Sixteen-year-old_ me was also a delinquent, in case you forgot, and if you ask any teacher I’ve ever had, I’m _still_ a delinquent —”

“Really? I’m sure, Mr Settled-down-with-a-girlfriend,” Annabeth won’t lie, she still has to fight a dorky smile when she calls herself Percy’s girlfriend. “If anything, you’re just a _dork._ ” 

“Yeah, but I’m _your_ —” He doesn’t get to finish before there’s an eight-year-old choking loudly.

Right, so maybe they were a bit distracted.

* * *

Okay, so _maybe_ arts and crafts was more eventful than it should’ve been, but in their defense, the kid didn’t even die! Everyone was fine, and Chiron didn’t even have to know. Chiron, who, by the way, should really reconsider his definition of ‘responsible’, because Percy and Annabeth, no matter what anyone else says, are _not it_ — at least when it comes to kids.

“Remind me later to never have children,” Percy tells her hours later, as they walk hand in hand towards the closest movie theatre, silhouetted by the moon.

Annabeth gives a soft laugh, swinging their hands back and forth. “Noted. That was _your_ fault, though, you were being _distracting._ Distracting Seaweed Brain.”

“Hey, _technically_ it’s not even my fault,” he argues with a grin, kicking a rock. “Like, I only hold twelve percent of the blame. You can bargain for sixteen, but you better have a good offer.”

“Yeah?” she hums, shaking her head fondly. “What do you think about not making you have arts and crafts duty with me for twenty percent of the blame?” She suggests, watching the kicked rock tumble off. 

Percy stops dead in his tracks. “Wait, seriously?” he asks, eyes wide. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He stumbles forward when she tugs on his hand, and they’re walking again, shoulders brushing and wearing matching smiles.

“I do. I love you,” he says quietly, pressing a brief kiss to her temple.

Annabeth is about to say it back; in fact, she’s even pursed her lips like she does every time she’s about to say something important, she’s taken in a breath and opened her mouth, but then she stops. She doesn’t know why, it’s not even the first time they’ve said it, but she doesn’t really know how to respond. The panic begins to set in, and she swears she can feel her palms start sweating, until —

“You don’t have to say it back.” And he’s looking at her, really looking at her, like he’s taking in every detail in her face, like he’s tracing every thought in her brain, and for some reason it _doesn’t_ make her want to crawl into a hole and die. She waits for him to look away but he doesn’t, so she stops walking, making him follow suit.

“I do.” The words are out of her mouth before she can decide to speak them.

“You don’t,” he repeats, mouth curved in a soft smile, determination etched on his features. “I know you do.” He wraps her arms around her, kissing her forehead. “That’s enough.”

They must look weird, Percy figures, just hugging in the middle of the street, but he can’t bring himself to care about what anyone else thinks, because — as cheesy as it is, yes — he’s only got eyes for Annabeth. He pulls away a bit, resting his forearms on her shoulders. It _is_ a flex — because he’s _taller_ now, and he _cannot_ help it — but only a little bit. She’s smiling — smiling like he’s only seen her smile back when they were thirteen-year-old best friends with a significantly smaller amount of baggage — and looking at her feels like it does when she traces her fingers over where his mortal spot used to be: like electricity coursing through his veins. Her eyes crinkle at the sides and the nearly-invisible freckles on her cheeks shine like the constellations dedicated to the same heroes she eclipses. There’s a scar over her left eyebrow and another one just above her upper lip and her eyes are shining and _gods above,_ Percy loves her.

Annabeth doesn’t know how she got so lucky, really. Percy Jackson — monster slayer, debatably one of the most powerful demigods ever, son of Poseidon, and all-around dork — is hers. In an attempt to play off the annoyingly soft blush rising on her face, Annabeth tries to bury herself in Percy’s chest, not making too much of an effort because he’s _looking_ at her and gods, he’s _perfect._ They’ve seen each other at their worst, when neither of them can sleep and their eyes are so _red_ from crying, and almost every time they’ve gotten a new scar, and they’ve been through so _much_ and now they’re just standing in the street and Percy’s eyes are shining just the tiniest bit and _gods_ , Annabeth loves him.

“We’re gonna end up missing the movie,” he laughs, making no move to go. “I thought this was a romantic movie date, not a romantic standing-in-the-middle of-the-street date.”

“Yeah, maybe we are,” she admits, laughing just the tiniest bit. “Why can’t it be both? I mean, we’ve already done the whole standing-in-the-street bit.”

“Now there’s just the movie bit left,” he agrees. They let go of each other only slightly reluctantly and resume their walk, fingers still laced together.

They enter the theatre just in time to hear the speakers asking them to silence their phones, one large popcorn to share that will most definitely be empty already when the movie starts, and two seats that will absolutely not be used. Once they’re settled, Annabeth wastes no time in pushing the armrest up to lean against Percy’s side. 

_Together. As long as we’re together._

* * *

The cheesy rom-com ends rather quickly, which is a shame because the longer the movie is, the more they can make fun of it once they get back to Camp.

Annabeth untangles herself from Percy as the credits roll, incredibly reluctantly, and gives him a tired glare to express her dissatisfaction with the world in general. 

They’re the last ones to exit the theatre. With how sleepy they are, it’s a miracle they don’t fall on their faces, but they manage to make it out to the street, and by the time there’s only about ten minutes until they arrive at Camp, they’re slightly more awake.

Even if they hadn’t been, Percy imagines the hellhound would’ve woken them up rather quickly anyway, but as it is, he only lets out an annoyed huff and uncaps Riptide, as the familiar sound of Annabeth unsheathing her own sword warms something in his chest. On second thought though, that might be the adrenaline.

Percy shakes his head and raises an eyebrow to Annabeth.

_Same as always?_

She grins.

_Same as always._

And as the monster is reduced to golden dust with a mental apology to Mrs O’leary, Percy can’t help but be slightly exasperated.

_It’s too late for this shit._

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sighing as i write this but addi has a message:  
> "ahem. purple nose hairs. that's it that's the tweet."  
> au revoir, like comment and subscribe <3


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